In my periphery, a man enters the QuickieMart, headed straight for us. Greedy shifts closer and shelters my body between his and the rows of candy near the checkout. His body is so close, and yet he inches even closer and grasps my hip with one hand. He doesn’t shift back after the man passes. Nor does he move his hand. Why is that so hot? I peer up at him through my lashes, fighting back a grin. “Thirsty, Greedy?” He groans. “You’re killing me here, Artemis.” I snort. It’s the most unladylike sound imaginable. My mother would be appalled, but I’m so amused, I hardly have it in me to be
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